


Stargazing

by InkFlavored



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Belonging, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Homesickness, Post-Canon, Yami Yuugi | Atem Has His Own Body, atem has some issues, but he also has friends that love him very much, listen im emotional, puzzleshipping if you squint but thats not what this story is about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:48:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27985668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkFlavored/pseuds/InkFlavored
Summary: Everything about the modern world is different. Logically, he knew it before he even regained his memories. Of course, the world will be different after three thousand years locked away. Of course, things and people will change. Of course, things will look different. Obviously. Why even consider it?But somehow, this never occurred to him. The one constant of his old life, the one thing that would always, always stay the same.It’s gone now. Everything is different.
Relationships: Atem & His Friends, Atem & His Trauma, Atem & Mutou Yuugi
Comments: 36
Kudos: 77





	Stargazing

The sky is impossible to read.

Now with a body and memories of his own, Atem often blurs the line between his old life and his new one—many times without realizing it. He remembers his prayers to the sun, how to measure with the _meh niswt_ , and how to look to the stars for the hour of the night.

Or… he _should_ know.

“Other Me?”

Atem startles out of his thoughts—how long has he been staring up at the moon? He looks to Yugi again, as they walk side-by-side down the darkened streets. “Yes?”

Yugi smiles in the kind way he always does. “I asked you if you knew what time it was.”

Oh. Right.

“I don’t,” Atem says, and the fact that it’s true bothers him more than he’d like to admit. “But it must be getting late. We should head home.”

“You’re probably right.”

It’s a quiet summer night in Domino, perfect for an evening walk. That’s exactly what they’re doing, and what they’ve _been_ doing since the sun fell low behind the towering buildings. Now, the moon is high in the dark sky. Dark enough to see the stars, certainly.

They turn back the way they came, and Atem turns his eyes to the heavens again. He scans the stars for the constellations in his memories—the reliable patterns he could always call upon to tell him the hour. He can’t find them. Not a single shape among the tiny dots is familiar.

He can’t read the sky.

_Why not?_

“Something on your mind?”

For the second time, Atem tears his gaze from the stars, back to Yugi. “You can tell?”

It’s more of a joke than a genuine question. Yugi can always tell. And from the knowing look he gets, Atem can tell Yugi knows it’s a joke, too.

“I know the difference between stargazing,” he says, and casts a soft expression skyward, “and what you look like when you’re thinking about something.”

Atem joins him in looking, but says nothing. The silence between them begs a question that never needs to be asked— _How can I help?_

“It’s not important,” he says. “I remembered something from before.”

“Tell me about it.”

He should have known. He _did_ know. No matter how unimportant Atem deems something, Yugi will find a way to figure out what it is. But it’s alright—he’s happy to share.

“Clocks didn’t exist in Egypt,” Atem says, “except for sundials and other similar things that only worked during the day, when there was a shadow cast from the sun. To tell the time at night, we would look up.” He lifts a hand to the dotted sky. “We would watch for which constellations were overhead and how bright the stars were to tell the time. And now…” He tries again to pick out a familiar pattern of stars and fails. He drops his hand. “And now I can’t.”

Yugi hums pensively. “I guess that makes sense. The stars are different now.”

Atem looks over, bewildered. “Are the stars different in different places?”

“Kind of? It’s been thousands of years, and stars move through space. They’re all in different places now than they were for you. I’d be confused, too.”

Atem hasn’t mentioned confusion, but he guesses it’s plain enough on his face. He takes another look to the sky and frowns.

Everything about the modern world is different. He knows that, and it’s not a new concept to him. Logically, he knew it before he even regained his memories. Of course, the world will be different after three thousand years locked away. Of course, things and people will change. Of course, things will look different. Obviously. Why even consider it?

But somehow, this never occurred to him. The very sky, changing. The one constant of his old life, the one thing that would always, _always_ stay the same.

It’s gone now. Everything is different.

“Other Me?”

Atem doesn’t look down this time. “Yes?”

“You look upset.”

“I’m alright.”

Yugi puts a hand on his shoulder. “Atem…”

Ah, Gods. That’s worry in his voice.

Atem schools his face into something more acceptable, less burdened. He takes his eyes off the sky and takes Yugi’s hand instead.

“I’m fine, Partner,” he says. “It’s just one more thing to get used to.”

Yugi narrows his eyes—not unkindly—seeking any sign of discomfort. Atem does his best to hide it from him.

“If you’re sure,” Yugi says.

“I am.”

“Okay.”

He doesn’t sound convinced, and Atem doesn’t expect him to be. He _does_ sound temporarily satisfied, which is close enough. It ends the conversation, the goal Atem had been vying for. He’d rather not speak of this right now. Not anymore

Yugi knows, like he always does. On the rest of their walk home, he keeps their hands joined—a familiar, comforting presence.

And on the rest of their walk home, Atem does his best not to look up.

After that, he can’t help but notice it.

Every time Atem so much as glances at the stars, he tries to figure out just how far they moved, in which direction, if it’s even possible to _know_ where the stars have gone now. Nothing obvious sticks out at him. Hardly anything _sticks out_ at all.

If he didn’t know any better—and perhaps he doesn’t—he would think there are _less_ stars in the sky in general. Back in Egypt, he remembers staring up to a vast pool of cosmos, endless white dots, big and small, lighting up the sky like splatters from a brush. He remembers what he now understands is the Milky Way, painted across the night in muted blues and purples, like the gods had torn open their realm and spilled out for all to see their beauty.

He doesn’t see that anymore.

“Partner?” he asks. He’s sitting at Yugi’s desk, staring out the window. Old habits die hard.

“What’s up?” Yugi says, relaxing in bed. Playing something, by the sounds of plastic tapping.

“How often do stars die?”

“Uh… I don’t really know. All the time, probably.”

“Is it possible to see the difference?”

“Maybe if you were watching one specific star. But it takes billions of years, and new stars are being born all the time. It probably wouldn’t look _too_ different from here.”

That fact doesn’t comfort Atem, frowning up at the night sky. It’s nearly _starless_ , compared to the sights he used to see. A light scattering of white dots, with so much space between them it’s a wonder they aren’t swallowed whole by the dark.

The plastic clatter stops. The bedsheets rustle. Yugi shuffles over and puts a soft hand on Atem's back. “Are you thinking about Egypt, again?”

“Yes,” Atem says, and his heart twists oddly at the admittance. He pulls at the beaded chain that holds his cartouche around his neck. The stars sit flat against the sky.

Yugi bends over the desk to look out the window with him. “I bet there are less stars than you’re used to, huh?”

“Yes. Very much so.”

It still throws him that something this fundamental to the world is different. Something so unmoving and constant, suddenly a far cry from what it used to be. And now realizing that the stars have not only moved, but are _missing_ from the sky, is a detail he can’t shake. What _happened_ to them all?

As though they still share a mind, Yugi turns back to him with a sad smile. “Pollution.”

“What do you mean?”

“That’s why we can’t see as many stars. Light pollution and plain old regular pollution.”

Atem is familiar with the concept of pollution— _one_ kind of it, anyway. The smog he so often hears people speak about, clogging the atmosphere and choking out breathable air in many cities. It would make sense that something _tangible_ would obscure the stars. But—

“What is _light_ pollution?” he asks.

Yugi gestures out the window. “All the bright lights in the city. They give off so much light that it makes the stars fade out, like in the daytime. It’s so bright that we just can’t see as many of them.”

“I never would have considered that.”

“Yeah, it sucks. The only people who _really_ get to see the stars anymore are people in rural areas, where there aren’t as many lights all the time.”

He sounds annoyed, which confuses Atem a little. Not wistful or missing the brighter sky, but resentfully accepting it as a fact of life. His heart sinks as he realizes, racing back through borrowed memories, that Yugi has never truly seen the stars before. He can’t miss something he’s never had. Have _any_ of their friends seen the stars before?

His heart twists again.

Atem is not often homesick. The feeling is useless—he would not only wish for a different place, but a different _time_ , impossible to return to. The current Egypt is nothing like _his_ Egypt, and the only thing that’s left of _that_ one is tourist destinations, or locked behind glass cases in museums. He focuses on what he _has_ , in this new life, rather than what he’s lost from the old one.

But tonight, staring out the window at the pittance of stars in the sky, Atem finds himself very, very homesick.

“Hey,” Yugi says, softly getting his attention by thumbing his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

He drops his head from the window. “It’s just strange.” The dangling cartouche catches his eye and his throat tightens. “Very strange.”

“Is there a way I can help?”

If he asks, Atem knows that Yugi will go as far as to paint the missing stars back in the sky himself. But there are some things Atem will _never_ ask, because he knows they can’t be done. There is nothing _anyone_ can do about this, no matter how hard they try. No matter how much he wants it to be true. 

“No,” he says, standing up and watching Yugi’s hand fall back to his side. “It’s just something I’ll have to get used to.”

The words taste sour as they pass his lips. He tries to keep his expression steady, but a single awkward curve of the lip betrays his unease. Yugi sees it, of course, and guides him away from the window. 

“I’m here,” Yugi says, “if you need to talk about it.”

What is there to talk about? The stars are different. That begins and ends the situation. The stars are different and it’s strange and confusing and reminds Atem of how different everything _else_ is.

So he tells Yugi, “Maybe some other time.” 

“Whenever you need.”

“I know. Thank you.”

Yugi answers with a smile and a hug. Simple, but comforting all the same.

“Come watch me beat this level,” he says, already turned around.

Atem has no idea what game it is, but can’t help but be excited by the prospect. “I have to get ready for bed first.”

“Be fast or you’ll miss it!”

He turns to the desk, slipping the cartouche over his head and setting it down in its usual place… and can’t help but look out the window again. 

_When a pharaoh dies,_ the once-lost memory of his father’s voice murmurs, _his soul rises up and joins the Imperishable Stars, among all the Sons of Horus before him._

Atem stares up into the night. Having already died once, he supposes he’s lost his opportunity to become a star.

Or perhaps he already is a star. A star displaced three-thousand years and dropped into a different sky. Outside any familiar constellations, floating alone among the black void of the night. Faded and lost to the bright modern lights and clouds of dark smog. 

He turns away from the window, and doesn’t look back.

“Whoa, check this out everybody!”

From where all of them huddle around Yugi and Jou’s duel in the center of the bedroom floor, six heads turn to Anzu. She sits cross-legged on the bed with a magazine in her lap and an eager smile on her face.

“Can it wait for, uh,” Jou says, squinting at the cards in his hand, “for three turns? I’m about to annihilate Yug’ here.”

“What is it, Anzu?” Yugi asks, instead of responding to the challenge. Atem, sitting right behind him, swallows a smile. He has an idea of what Jou’s plan is. It’s a good one, but it won’t be enough.

“There’s going to be a visible comet later this month,” Anzu announces, and places a finger on one of the pages to read. “‘The Tsuchinshan 1 Comet will be visible to the naked eye this summer, for stargazers in the northern hemisphere.’ Look!” She flips the magazine around, revealing a map of the world with a red line drawn through it. Next to it is a smaller map of Japan, with the same line and cities marked with stars. “We’re right in the path! We _have_ to pick somewhere to watch it from.”

“No _way_ ,” Honda gasps, crawling over on his knees to look closer. Face pressed up against the page, he reads, “‘A once in a lifetime chance, this magnitude eleven comet was discovered in 1965, and won’t be passing through our solar system again for another _two-hundred_ years _!_ ’”

“That’s incredible,” Ryou says. “Are there any good spots in town to catch it when it passes by?”

“If there _are_ ,” Otogi scoffs, “they’ll be overrun by tourists. We have to get a spot _nobody_ else knows about.”

Yugi puts his cards aside, craning his neck to see the magazine. “Does it say when?”

Honda squints down the page. “Uhh…”

“Lemme see,” Jou demands, throwing his cards down and joining Honda in pressing his face against the page. “Guys, it’s happening in _two weeks!_ We’ve gotta pick a spot quick—I bet half the city’s been planning for this.”

“The park is going to be too packed for us,” Anzu grumbles.

“That’s an _easy_ spot,” Otogi points out. “ _Everyone’s_ going to be in the park.”

“I bet the school would let us on the roof,” Ryou says.

“We’d never get a good look at it with that gross fence.”

One by one, everyone shifts away from the duel and closer to Anzu’s magazine, throwing out their own ideas for places to watch and activities to bring while waiting for the comet to appear. A moonlight picnic, board games, music, a telescope in case it’s dimmer than expected. 

Atem doesn’t move, or suggest any ideas of his own. He fades in the background of the excited conversation, staring at his hands.

They had comets in Egypt, though that’s not what people thought they were at the time. Instead, they were hailed as gods, as so many things were, and given a rightful place among the extensive pantheon. What else could the explanation be for such a rare, heavenly sight? 

Rocks, apparently. Shooting through space at impossible speeds, with trails of gas, ice, and smaller rocks behind them. Knowing the truth of it now, Atem can’t decide if it makes him feel better or worse.

The gods are real. Everyone in this room is witness to that simple fact. Atem, most of all, knows the power they can manifest, the proof being the fact that he’s here to marvel about it at all. Though not without _some_ trouble—rejecting the offer of eternal life in paradise had left them stunned at his impudence. Atem had half a mind to think they might smite him where he stood in that temple, but instead they gave him _this_. A second chance at life, three thousand years after he should have been dead. The gods are real, and infinitely powerful.

However, science is _also_ all too real, if existing in the general vicinity of Seto Kaiba for several years counts for anything. It certainly helped kickstart his interest in the ways the world has changed. Yet the more Atem learns, the more he discovers that the world _hasn’t_ changed. The world has been this way the whole time, and he simply never had the tools to understand it on that level. The sun isn’t Ra—it’s a star, billions of miles away. The Nile floods by the whim of the tides and the moon and the winds—not Hapi. There are particles, molecules, atoms, things so infinitely small they might as well be mythology in their own right.

And a comet isn’t a god. It’s a rock.

But the gods _are_ real. So if the comet _isn’t_ a god, maybe they sent it here. Maybe they’ve tugged the strings of the universe and coaxed one of those endlessly floating rocks past the Earth, into his sky. A show of their power, a taunt from up above. _We offered you eternity, the highest gift_ , says the message _, yet you chose the mortal world in its stead. Bow your head and offer penance_.

Atem clenches his fists together and swallows, hard. Maybe this is _worse_ than being struck down by divinity itself on a temple floor. 

Are the stars still the same in the afterlife?

“What do you think, Other Me?”

He jerks unceremoniously up, and finds his partner and all his friends staring. Waiting for a response to a question he didn’t hear. 

“It’s alright,” he says, lamely. “I can’t go.”

Yugi’s patient smile turns confused. “What do you mean? Of course you can, we’re all going.”

“It’s like Otogi said, there’s going to be a lot of tourists. Grandpa is definitely going to want me in the shop for all that foot traffic.”

“I’m sure he’ll let you hang out for a little while.”

“This is _crazy_ rare, man,” Jou adds. “He’s cool enough to let you go just this once.”

“It’s pretty late at night, too,” Anzu says. “It won’t even be visible until the sun is down, and the shop closes before then, doesn’t it?”

“What day of the week is it?” Atem asks, trying to find some excuse. “If it’s on the weekend, we’re open late.”

Jou swings back to glance over the magazine again, and his shoulders droop. “It’s a Saturday.”

“But this is a once in a _lifetime_ thing,” Honda protests. “You won’t _get_ another chance if you miss this.”

“I don’t mind.” Atem quickly stands, avoiding the cluster of crestfallen faces. “I’ve lived for this long, what’s another two-hundred years?”

The joke brightens their eyes, somewhat, but the heavy weight of disappointment lingers in the air. Disappointment from everyone but Yugi, who watches him with deep concern. Atem shifts his weight from foot to foot.

“We’ll be sure to take pictures for you,” Ryou promises.

“I’ve got a really nice camera I can bring,” Otogi says.

“Why do you have a camera?” Honda asks. “Aren’t you busy with all your game design stuff?”

He folds his arms. “I do _other stuff_ , too.”

“Thank you,” Atem cuts in. “I’d appreciate that.” 

“It’ll be like you never missed it at all!” Jou cheers, pumping his fist.

“Thank you.” He inches for the door. “I need a drink, is anyone else thirsty?”

No one is, so Atem leaves. Even with the door shut behind him, he can’t relax. The imprints of downcast eyes itch at the back of his mind all the way downstairs to pour a glass of water he doesn’t even _want_. He didn’t expect them all to be so upset by it. Guilt squeezes his chest. He taps his fingernails on the glass. 

Grandpa _will_ let him go with everyone to watch the comet, even if he is supposed to be working that day, but Atem doesn’t even plan to ask. He doesn’t want to go. He doesn’t want another reminder of everything that was, everything that isn’t, and everything that never will be again. 

He doesn’t want another reminder that _he_ should be one of those things.

The concern so clear from Yugi scratches against his guilt, and it only makes him feel worse. He doesn’t want anyone else to trouble themselves with this, _especially_ his partner. Yugi has already done so much for him, they all have. They can’t help Atem this time—shouldn’t have to. This is his burden to bear. He’ll get used to it by himself. 

It should feel like a victory, but it doesn’t. 

Atem drags himself back upstairs and pastes a pleasantly neutral expression on his face before opening the bedroom door. Thankfully, he finds everyone engrossed in the resumed duel instead of making plans. Anzu’s magazine lays face down on the bed, open to save the page, but no one is talking about it or the comet. Atem breathes a small sigh of relief through his nose, springing back over to Yugi to take his usual seat and catch up on what he missed. 

“Has Jou annihilated you yet?” he asks.

“Not quite,” Yugi responds, hovering over a spell card in his hand.

Jou groans at the ceiling. “ _Just_ when I think I have something good.” 

“It _was_ good, but—” he puts the card down, “—this is better.”

The rest of his strategy proves better, too. Jou never follows through with his threat of annihilation, and Yugi humbly accepts his victory in a few short turns. A rematch is demanded of him, but they’re made to save it for another time when Anzu reminds them all that this was supposed to be a _short break_ from studying. Everyone grumbles to themselves about enjoying the summer before dragging their school materials back from the corners they shoved them into.

The study session ends right before dinner, as one by one the group is called home or called downstairs in Atem and Yugi’s case. No one mentions the comet again, and Atem has almost forgotten about it entirely by the time the day is over.

Almost, until Yugi shuts the bedroom door and leans back on it with his arms crossed. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing?” Atem replies, hoping it’s the correct answer.

“What was wrong _earlier_? Why don’t you want to come see the comet with us?”

He hurriedly turns away, making for the bed. “Nothing was wrong, I just can’t go.”

“You said you wouldn’t mind missing it.”

“I don’t.”

“Why not?”

Atem doesn’t answer— _can’t_ answer. He stands at the edge of the bed and picks at the sheets in silence. Yugi comes over to sit down on the edge.

“Is this about the stars again?” he asks, gentle. 

Atem can’t speak. He nods.

“Come on. Sit down.”

Yugi scoots over and pats the spot next to him. Atem takes it. He crosses his legs and stares at his hands. 

“I think we should talk about it,” Yugi says.

“What about?” Atem asks.

“About how you’re feeling. You said it’s hard to get used to before.”

“I said it was something I’d have to get used to.”

“And that means you’re not used to it yet.”

“I’m not.”

“Do you want to talk about why?”

The better question, in Atem’s mind, is _Why not_? Why _wouldn’t_ it be hard to get used to the sky changing its shape? Why _wouldn’t_ it be hard to accept the idea that the world is more complex than you could have ever imagined? Why _wouldn’t_ it feel so hard to accept that this world isn’t meant for you? 

“It’s confusing,” he says instead. “Having all my memories from how the world used to be is confusing when I look outside and can’t find that world.”

“That makes sense. I underst—”

“No, you don’t.”

Yugi flinches back, surprised, and Atem wants to bite his own tongue off.

“I’m sorry,” he says, immediately. “I don’t know why I—I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay. You’re right.”

“What?”

“You’re right. I _don’t_ understand. I can guess, but I’m never going to really know how it feels. So help me understand.” Yugi hops closer to wrap an arm around his shoulders. “What’s wrong, Other Me?”

Atem balls his hands into fists. He doesn’t want to answer—doesn’t want to admit it. It hurts him, but it would hurt Yugi more. After everything they’ve been through, what a sorry thanks it would be to hear this.

“Will you be upset with me?” he asks, small and shy and hates it.

“Never,” Yugi says, immediate, as sincere as anything. “I’ll never be upset with you for a _feeling_ , no matter what it is.”

Feeling. What a funny word. _Is it still just a feeling_ , Atem wonders, _if it’s true?_

“I shouldn’t be here,” he mumbles. 

“I couldn’t hear you,” Yugi tells him.

“I shouldn’t _be_ here.”

It’s louder than he meant to say it. Angrier. 

“What do you mean?” Yugi asks, before he can apologize again. “Of course, you should be here.”

“No, I shouldn’t.” Atem stands up and gestures all around—at the room, at the house, at the world. “I don’t belong here, in this place, in this time. I’m not supposed to be here, I’m supposed to be _dead_.”

Yugi stands up, too, cautious. “Just because that’s how things were supposed to be, doesn’t mean that's how they _should_ be.”

“But it’s still true, isn’t it?”

“Maybe it is. But you’re here because you wanted to stay. We _all_ wanted you to stay.”

“We defied the _gods_ to make it happen, Partner. We—we went against _Ma’at_ , we went against _every rule in the universe to keep me here, doesn’t that make it worse? That I’m not supposed to be here, and we broke that rule on purpose_?”

Yugi watches him, bewildered, for several long seconds. “I don’t know what you said. You kind of… started talking in a different language.”

Atem presses his lips together. He’d been speaking Middle Egyptian. A language no one else knows. His throat tightens.

“Other Me,” Yugi says, taking a step forward. “What does this have to do with the stars?”

Atem takes a steadying breath. Gets himself under control. He takes a glance out the window, something he hasn’t done in weeks. The depressingly blank sky greets him.

“They’re different,” he says. “When I look at them, all I see is how different they are, from how I remember them. The ones from my time are gone and I should have gone with them.” 

He feels like a star again. A lonesome thing, floating alone in a void, darkness on all sides. He is alone here, though he’d never say it. Not in front of Yugi.

“You feel out of place?” Yugi guesses, and it’s close enough for Atem to nod. Yugi looks out the window too, markedly less perturbed by the sky. “I don’t know much about stars, but there have to be _some_ up there that are still from your time. Three thousand years isn’t all that much for a star. I bet a lot of them are still up there, we just can’t see them.”

“What’s the difference, then, if we can’t see them? Moved or obscured or dead?” Atem rips his eyes away from the window. “It’s not the point.”

Yugi puts a hand on his arm. “Stars are _born_ all the time.”

“Dead stars don’t come back to life.” All he can do is shake his head at the floor. “I don’t belong here. I never have.”

“Don’t say that.”

“But I don’t. I was never supposed to be here. This isn’t my world, those stars aren’t mine. They’re yours.”

“But you have my memories. You lived with me for—”

“ _Your_ memories. I have my own, the ones from my time, and they’re all so different from this. That sky isn’t mine.” Atem looks out the window again, even though it hurts. Maybe _because_ it hurts. “I lived a borrowed existence, and this time is no different.”

Yugi stays quiet for a while. Atem doesn’t expect him to have anything to say. Never being upset is a promise no one can keep, not even someone like Yugi. Nobody can be endlessly kind all the time, especially after an admittance like this. That after claiming to want to live a full life, Atem has come to the modern world with doubts that must seem like insults to their friendship. To their _partnership_. He’s afraid to look back over.

“Atem,” Yugi says, and doesn’t continue until Atem turns his head. “Do you regret staying with us?”

Too many things add up in that single question. There isn’t just concern in it, there’s _fear_. Only then does Atem realize how he’s been talking. What it implies, what it might sound like to anyone else outside his own head.

“ _No_ , of course not,” he says, forcefully trying to banish the thought. “No matter what, I stayed because I wanted to. I don’t regret this. I don’t want to—I wouldn’t _change_ it.” 

It’s bittersweet when Yugi visibly relaxes, hand dropping from Atem’s arm to grab his hand. Atem takes it, glad he’s able to ease that particular worry, but a small panic still races through his heart at the idea that it had even existed in the first place. 

“I don’t regret this,” he repeats, to make sure it’s clear. “I just didn’t expect that having my own memories again would make everything so…” 

“Hard?” Yugi offers, with a little smile.

“Yes.” Atem tries to smile back, but it feels twisted on his face. “Hard.”

They don’t say anything else for a while, hand in hand and letting the silence drag on. An overwhelming case of déjà vu strikes Atem as they stand in the moonlight from the bedroom window. From a time that seems so long ago, when he was only a spirit without a body or purpose or _identity_ of his own. When Yugi offered his own instead, to fill the hole. 

Now Atem has his own memories, too, and feels greedy to have both and still feel empty. A familiar void claws at the back of his mind, and he can’t help but wonder, _When will it be enough? When can I feel like I belong?_

“If you think of anything that would make it easier,” Yugi says, “you can tell me. Or Grandpa, or Mom, or any of our friends. We all care about you.”

“I know,” Atem replies, and he does. “I care about you, too. All of you.”

“We’re all here for you.”

“I know.”

“Then do you promise you’ll ask for help if you need it?”

It’s a genuine question, but Atem would be a fool not to hear the implied challenge in Yugi’s tone. This is a promise he’s going to be expected to keep, no exceptions. Atem isn’t sure what consequences could possibly come from breaking a promise like this, or if Yugi even plans to follow through on them, but he understands the gravity of it. Of why this promise has to be carved in stone.

“I promise,” Atem tells him. “If I need help, I’ll ask it of you.”

“Good.”

Yugi releases his hand to pull him into a hug instead. Atem returns it automatically, but stares at the foot of the bed over his partner’s shoulder. He knows he has all the help and support in the world at a single word, but his worries are _cosmic_. They’re irrational and far-reaching and impossible, as distant from aid as the sky he longs so dearly for. They can’t bring his Egypt back. They can’t bring his stars back. 

When Yugi pulls away, Atem pastes a smile on his face. “Thank you,” he says.

“Anytime,” Yugi replies. He almost turns away, but hesitantly opens his mouth. “Maybe if you’re feeling better about all this, you can come with us to—”

“No.” Atem shakes his head, shakes away the snap in his tone. “No, I’d rather not. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Atem nods awkwardly. He wants to apologize again.

“Hey.” Yugi takes both his arms, shakes him a little before letting go. “It’s _okay_. You don’t have to go with us.”

“I hope you all have fun. I _would_ go, if it didn’t involve…” He gestures upward. 

“Too many stars?”

Atem shakes his head, sour. “Not enough of them.”

Yugi screws his mouth up, the gears turning in his brain almost visible in his eyes. Atem half-wishes they still shared a mind, so he could interrupt that thought directly instead of halting it momentarily.

“It’s alright,” he says. “I’ll be fine.”

And he will be. He knows he will be. He’s suffered worse than this and came out singing—both of them have. Just like time passes, like clouds roll, like the stars move across the sky, this too shall pass. He simply has to get used to it.

Atem simply has to get used to it. On his own. 

It’s a slow day at the Game Shop. Atem presses his head against the wall by the register, waiting for someone to come inside and make it slightly more interesting for five minutes. The afternoon sun looks so inviting, too. He wonders if it’s worth it to sweep some imaginary dust off the front steps, to have an excuse to—

Atem jolts off the wall in surprise as Yugi bursts through the door, triumphantly clutching a piece of paper in his hand.

“Other Me!” he cries, waving the paper around. “Atem, look! Look, look!”

“What? I'm looking, I'm looking, what is it?"

Yugi slaps the page down on the counter and immediately picks it up again before Atem gets to read it, but his excitement is infectious. He bounces at the counter like he’s fit to burst right there, and Atem is already mirroring the wide grin across his face.

“Remember that tournament in Ōmachi?” Yugi asks.

It doesn’t need any more explaining than that. “You got in?”

“I got in!”

Only then does Yugi hand the page over. Atem takes it, though reading it is hardly necessary anymore. He knows the important part, but scans over it out of courtesy anyway. It’s a generic acceptance letter, but seeing his partner’s name displayed proudly next to _Congratulations!_ fills him with pride. And a bit of relief, that he’s here to see it at all.

“That’s wonderful, Partner,” he says, and puts the letter down. “I’m proud of you.”

Yugi taps the page urgently. “Did you read the whole thing?”

“Should I?”

“It says I can bring a friend with me.”

“That’s nice of them.” Atem slides it back. “Who are you bringing?”

Yugi sags, fondly exasperated. “ _You_ , obviously.”

“Oh!” He forgot he was an option. “Yes, of course, I’d love to go with you.” 

“Great! It’s next week, so we should start—”

Yugi continues rambling about what they should or shouldn’t bring for the trip, but something occurs to Atem.

“Isn’t Ōmachi rather far away?” he asks. 

Yugi stops in his tracks, but waves the question away. “It’s not that far, only a five-hour drive.”

Atem eyes him curiously. “That’s far, Yugi. Especially if it’s just the two of us. Wouldn’t you rather bring your mother? Or Grandpa?”

“We’re both eighteen now, it’s fine. Plus, Jou got in, too, and he’s bringing Honda, so it won’t be _just_ the two of us.”

“He’s not bringing Shizuka?”

“She couldn’t make it. Her school’s swim team tryouts are the same weekend.” Yugi presses his palms flat and hunkers down on the counter. “Come on, _please_?”

Atem laughs him off. “ _I’m_ not the one you need to convince.”

One of the people he _does_ need to convince opens the back door. “Ah, Yugi,” Grandpa says, stepping out of the house. “Welcome home.”

“Grandpa!” Yugi lurches off the counter, grabbing the acceptance letter as an afterthought. “Grandpa, look!”

Atem swallows another laugh, a customer walking in and giving him something else to worry about. The whole time, Yugi’s excited chatter fills the air and Atem can’t help but wonder why he’s _this_ excited. Being accepted into a tournament warrants a celebration of _some_ kind, but Yugi is practically vibrating out of his skin about a circuit they were both positive he’d make the cut for. The night he applied, they spent hours rebuilding his deck on the _hunch_ he’d be accepted. Yugi gets _this_ excited so rarely—what else can it possibly be?

The customer doesn’t give him time to ponder it. Atem puts his musing on pause and tunes out the nearby conversation to ring up their items. It doesn’t take long before he’s wishing them on their way, and he tunes back in just in time to hear Yugi beg.

“ _Please_ , Grandpa?”

“Listen, my boy,” Grandpa tells him, “I’m proud of you for getting into this tournament, but Ōmachi is a long way for you boys to go on your own. I’m not too keen on the idea, and I have no doubt your mother is going to feel the same.”

“But we won’t be on our own! Jou and Honda are coming, and Anzu has family in Ōmachi that everyone else is staying with.”

“Anzu’s coming?” Atem interrupts, surprised.

“Uh—yeah! Everyone’s tagging along. Didn’t I say that?” Yugi smiles, but there’s something… _off_ about it.

“No,” Atem tells him, brushing his concern aside. For the moment. “You didn’t.”

“Oh. Well, the plan is for all of us to road-trip up there together.”

“ _Who’s_ plan?” Grandpa asks. 

“I wasn’t informed of this either,” Atem adds.

“ _Our_ plan,” Yugi says, looking back and forth between them. “The whole group. We got really excited and started planning in advance. Honda has a big van that can fit us all, and Anzu has her aunt and uncle in Ōmachi for everyone who isn’t getting a hotel room because of the tournament. And they’ll be there the whole time! We _won’t_ be by ourselves.” He presses his palms together again. “Please? It’s only for the weekend.”

Grandpa puts his hands on his hips and frowns. Then he sighs. “Well, if your mother makes a fuss about it, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Yes!” Yugi crows, jumping into the air and nearly brushing the ceiling. When he hits the ground, he hugs his grandpa fiercely and rockets into the house. Atem blinks at the spot his partner had been standing only seconds ago. Grandpa appears just as surprised, chuckling to himself and shaking his head.

“Have you any idea what’s got him so worked up?” Grandpa asks.

“Not at all,” Atem says. “I hope you don’t mind me missing next weekend.”

“ _Psh_. Not at all. You kids enjoy your youth while you’re young.”

Atem cracks a smile. “Who said I was young?”

Grandpa approaches the counter, wagging a finger. “Now, now, as long as you’re able to run around with my grandson and his friends without dislocating a hip, you’re a _young_ man.”

 _Friends_. Yugi’s hasty, uncharacteristic excuse replays in his mind. His gaze trails to the house door.

“Did he really not mention,” Grandpa asks, “that the whole gang was coming along?” 

“No,” Atem answers. He frowns, concern crawling back.

Misunderstanding, Grandpa puts a kindly hand on his shoulder. “I wouldn’t think too hard about it. He probably didn’t want to get your hopes up, and got too excited to remember he hadn’t said anything.”

Atem nods, but doesn’t look away. “Right, of course.”

The hand leaves his shoulder, but Grandpa doesn’t. He stares back at the door, too, long enough that Atem wonders if there’s something else he missed.

“Did you need something?” he asks.

“No,” Grandpa says, then gives him a sad smile. “You know, I bet Yugi’s excited about this because he thinks it’ll make you feel better.”

“What?”

He sighs. “I didn’t want to bring it up, because what does an old man like me know, eh? But you seem like you’ve been in a slump lately.” 

“Oh.” Atem’s heart sinks to his feet.

Before he can elaborate or apologize, Grandpa throws his hands in the air. “Not saying you have to tell me anything about it. I’m sure you and Yugi have talked it over, and I’m not one to poke at a fresh bruise. I just want to make sure you know something.” He plants both hands firmly on Atem’s shoulders. “You’re a part of this family now, you hear me? Family helps each other. You can come to any one of us for help if you need it, and we’ll be there.”

Stunned, all Atem can say is, “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, boy, I’m saying it for your own good.” Grandpa smiles and claps him on the arm. “Think you can manage until close?”

“Yes, I’ll be fine.”

“Good. Take care.”

“I will.”

Grandpa leaves, and Atem is alone in the Game Shop again, with nothing but his thoughts for company. And they have much to say about Yugi’s outburst.

Atem isn’t worried about Yugi forgetting to tell him about their friends tagging along. He knows better than to think any of them would purposefully exclude him from a plan as important as this, and Yugi already said the “obvious” choice to pick for a plus-one was him. It had been a mistake, plain and simple, and Atem trusts Yugi more than he trusts _himself,_ on a good day. What puts him off is how Yugi made up for it.

If Yugi makes a mistake, he apologizes. This time, he made an _excuse_. Tried to brush it aside. That isn’t like Yugi, and Atem knows what _is_ and _isn’t_ Yugi better than most people. Since this had been an honest mistake, he’s sure, Yugi _could_ have just apologized and moved on. But he didn’t. He attempted to slip around it. Not very well, but he did try. 

Atem can’t think of a reason _why_ Yugi would need to do something like that. It could be that his excitement got the better of him, but Atem has a gut feeling that it’s something else. He doesn’t have enough information to say what, exactly, but _something else_.

He spends the rest of his shift thinking about it, and comes up with nothing. It slips his mind when he heads inside and Yugi nearly pounces on him to deliver the good news: they’re allowed to go, no guardians necessary. He forgets about it entirely when Yugi drags him upstairs, insisting they have to start packing _tonight_.

The rest of the week leading up to the tournament is much the same. Every time he brings it up, Atem watches Yugi struggle to put a cap on his elation, playing it off like it’s just another event and all the while grinning ear-to-ear. Atem isn’t quite sure what to make of it. 

It doesn’t help that their friends are much the same way. Joey, especially, insists that this tournament is going to be _life changing_. They all laugh at his characteristic aggrandizement, but those that usually tease him about it don’t say a word. In fact, some of them _agree._

All of it has Atem positive that they know something he doesn’t, but can’t for the life of him figure out what it is. It must be something important, if they’re all this enthusiastic, but after scouring the tournament’s webpage and Yugi’s acceptance letter for clues, he finds nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing he missed the first time. It’s _just_ a tournament. 

Finally, on the night before the trip to Ōmachi, Atem decides to _ask_ Yugi what they’re all so thrilled about. It can’t hurt, right?

“Partner,” he begins, reentering the bedroom in freshly changed pajamas, “I wanted to… what are you doing?”

Vastly different from the scene he left behind minutes ago, Yugi has what looks to be about every Duel Monsters card in his collection scattered on the floor. He sits cross-legged in front of them all, frowning pensively with his fingers steepled at his mouth. 

“I’m rebuilding my deck,” he answers. 

“Again?”

“Again.”

“We just rebuilt it, didn’t we?”

“I know. I just want to be sure.” Yugi picks up a pair of cards, frowns at them, and then flips them over to show Atem. “Which one? Or both?”

Atem gingerly steps around the scattered cards to get a closer look. “What’s your win condition?”

“I haven’t decided yet. I know last time we built it around Black Magician of Chaos, but I was thinking it might be a bit too spell-heavy. It would be really easy to counter with an anti-magic deck.”

“That’s why we added the Trap Jammer.”

“That’s true.” Yugi flips the cards back around to frown at them again.

Unable to resist now, Atem sits down in the only clear space available. “What do you want to change?”

Yugi launches into a long-winded explanation of his plans for the new deck, with appropriate pauses here and there for Atem to add his own commentary. They sort through the cards at the same time, laying the theoretical deck out in a long line to come up with the best strategy that links them all together. It's a kind of fun they can _truly_ enjoy, now that it isn’t tied to Shadow Games and evil magic and the lives of their friends and each other.

Occasionally, there’s enough of a lull that Atem remembers he meant to ask a question before. But then Yugi passes another card his way, with an excited ramble about how it improves the deck, and he brushes it aside to make room for more immediate concerns. This _is_ a tournament deck, after all. That means business.

By the time they finally declare it a complete, effective deck, it’s _far_ past the time they would normally be asleep. Atem doesn’t realize how tired he is until Yugi packs away his new deck in his suitcase. It leaves him with nothing else to do, and his eyelids sag with the weight of fatigue. A massive yawn squeezes them closed.

“What time is it?” he mumbles out, too leaden to check.

Yugi, still standing, squints at the clock on his bedside table. “It’s uh… past midnight. Whoops.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.” Yugi presses a hand over his mouth to stifle his own yawn. “Guess we should get to sleep now. Let’s clean up.”

Atem would much rather fall into bed, but robotically helps Yugi gather up the unused cards anyway. He stacks some of them up backwards, which would make a lot more of a difference to him if he wasn’t half asleep. The important part is that it’s being cleaned.

Halfway through the job, Yugi bursts into over-tired giggles, staring down at a card in his hand.

“What?” Atem asks, a smile twitching his lips.

“How mad do you think Jou would be,” Yugi says, “if we beat him with Hungry Burger?”

He flips over the card. The art of the carnivorous hamburger is a lot funnier than normal.

“Pretty mad,” Atem guesses.

“Do you think we could?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“Well, you can’t have a whole deck of just one card.”

“Right, but…” Atem interrupts his own train of thought with an idea. And then interrupts _that_ by laughing about it.

“What?” Yugi asks. “What is it?”

Trying to calm down enough to be legible, Atem says, “What if we made a _food_ deck?”

“A what?”

“All food. All cards that have food in the name.”

Yugi looks at Hungry Burger again. He looks at Atem. They start laughing at the same time.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Atem says, urgently searching through the stack of cards he’s scrounged together. He throws down the Hamburger Recipe magic card, sparking another round of giggles from the both of them.

“I got one, I got one,” Yugi says, setting down Hungry Burger next to Atem’s offering. He shuffles through his own stack of cards meant to be cleaned, and adds Apple Magician Girl next to the first two. 

A flood of awakeness rushes through Atem like a tidal wave. “Are we doing this?” 

“We _have_ to.”

They scatter their nice neat stacks, searching for any card even _tangentially_ related to food to build the new deck. Although, it’s less of a deck and more of a messy pile, thrown together without any discussion of what strategy—if any—one would employ while using it. Does it have a picture of food, or the name of a food in the title? It’s added to the rest. They make a game out of who can find cards the fastest, which soon leads to slapping down cards as fast as they can, and making an even bigger mess.

Atem has no idea how late it is when they finish it, or if they finished at all. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, either, but he _must_ have, because he wakes up eventually.

Carpet scratches his cheek when he wrinkles his nose at the sunlight shining against his eyelids. The smooth, cool surface of trading cards greet his fingers and toes when he stretches them. The arm he slept on hurts. 

He rolls onto his back and rubs his eyes open. They feel just as heavy as they did the previous night, as if he never rested at all. Atem pushes himself into a seated position and yawns hugely. He’s _exhausted_. How late were they up?

He takes a tired glance to where Yugi sat last night, and finds him completely unconscious against the leg of his desk. He’s still holding a stack of cards, and their surprisingly large food deck still sits in a haphazard pile on the floor. Atem squints at it—that _has_ to be past the forty-card limit.

“Yugi,” he mumbles, voice scratchy from sleep. Yugi doesn’t move. Atem drags himself just far enough to shove his knee. “ _Yugi_.”

He wakes up with a sniff, blinking rapidly and lolling his head from side to side. His eyes focus long enough to see Atem. “Hi. What?”

“It’s morning. I think.” The sun is out, so it has to be at _least_ morning. 

“Oh.” His attempt to say _Good morning_ gets smothered in a yawn. 

“Do you know how late we were up?”

Yugi shakes his head. “Nope. I was about to ask you.”

“It must have been late. It was already midnight when we started that.” Atem gestures vaguely at the food deck. Yugi blinks at it. 

“Wow. We did a lot.” He shuffles over and sorts through them. “Do you think it’s playable?”

“On a technicality, maybe.”

Yugi huffs a laugh. “I think I’ll take that chance.”

“What, are you bringing it?”

“Why not?” He collects the pile of cards into a neat stack. “We _did_ build it together.”

“Barely.”

“Did we even come up with a win condition?”

“Uh…” Atem shuts his eyes and tries to remember. “Be the tastiest?”

They share a subdued laugh—but it’s cut off by a sharp rap at the bedroom door.

“Boys?” Mrs. Mutou calls. “Are you awake yet? Honda is outside.”

“ _What_?” they both cry at the same time. 

“I’ll tell him you’re getting ready.”

Footsteps retreat from the door. Yugi jumps to his feet, dashing for the clock on the bedside table. He winces and turns the clock so Atem—also on his feet, with no sign of the tiredness he had only moments ago—can see the time, too. In bright red, it blinks 1:04pm. 

“We really slept in,” Yugi says. 

Atem turns it back around. “Let’s not keep everyone waiting.”

“Right.”

With blinding speed, they throw themselves into proper clothes, get the last of their luggage together—Yugi grabs an extra deck box for the food deck—and fly down the stairs. Mrs. Mutou and Grandpa stop them at the door long enough to hug them both goodbye before sending them on their way.

As promised, Honda’s van is pulled up on the side of the road outside the house, Honda himself hanging out the driver’s side window.

“Just in time,” he says. “We were about to leave without you.”

“Sorry,” Yugi says, catching his breath.

“We just woke up five minutes ago,” Atem adds.

Honda waves them off. “You can sleep on the way. Throw your stuff in the back and let’s get this show on the road!”

Atem and Yugi drag their suitcases to the back of the van and pop the trunk open. A pile of luggage from five other people greets them, the heads of their friends barely visible over the stack.

“Time to play Suitcase Tetris,” Yugi remarks, hefting his bag and trying to find a place to fit it. Atem does the same, trying not to shove anyone else’s too roughly. 

In the backseat, Ryou turns around. “Be careful of my—uh, of that blue bag over there.” He points down to a tall, cylindrical shoulder bag, upright against the far end of the trunk. “It’s fragile.”

“Got it,” Yugi says, carefully moving his own suitcase out of the way. Before Atem can ask what’s in it, Yugi slams the door shut. 

They pile themselves in next, sliding in the middle row of seats. Ryou and Anzu sit behind them, Yugi sits between Atem and Otogi, and Jou and Honda sit up front. 

“What took you guys so long?” Anzu asks, folding her arms between the headrests.

“We were up late,” Yugi says. “Deck building.”

Atem wiggles his hand back and forth. “Mostly.”

Jou turns around eagerly. “Did you duel?”

“Nope.” Yugi pops the deck box on his belt open. “We made this really cool—”

“Really _non-functional_ ,” Atem interrupts, but he’s smiling.

“—deck with all my food cards.”

Jou furrows his brows. “What?”

“You can show him when we’re on the road,” Otogi says, and nudges Honda’s arm with his foot. “Let’s move it.”

Honda shakes him off, and adjusts the rearview mirror. “Everybody buckle up. Next stop: Ōmachi!”

A unanimous cheer goes up as he starts the van and they journey begins.

Yugi resumes explaining the “intricacies” of the new deck to Jou, and Atem chimes in every so often to reiterate how tired they were, and how completely terrible it is. Jou insists on a duel against it anyway—to absolutely no one’s surprise.

The excitement radiating off everyone in the van is palpable, and they aren’t even out of Domino yet. Anzu chatters excitedly about everything fun to do in Ōmachi, if they have time between the tournament rounds to explore the city. She brandishes brochures for several parks, museums, and shrines, each boasting a unique and rich cultural experience. Even with the chaos that ensues from giving Jou full control of the radio, they all find a way to listen intently and make lists of everything they want to try.

The buzz escalates as the familiar tall skyscrapers and busy streets become blue skies and long, empty highways. Atem takes full advantage of his window seat to take in sights—it’s been a long time since he’s travelled outside of Domino, so long that every scene feels brand new. He’s content to watch quietly, and does just that for a majority of the trip’s first hour or so.

“Cows!” Jou announces, pointing out his window.

All conversation stops dead, as everyone presumably turns to look at the cows and greet them. Atem smiles to himself, out his own window, and at another herd of cattle grazing in an open field. People treat them so differently here than they did in Egypt. Even though the animals are abundant now—not at all the rare, worshipped commodity he remembers—Atem can’t help but watch them with a familiar reverence as the van zips down the highway. He says a little prayer of thanks to Hathor. It’s been too long.

“Other Me, the cows!” Yugi cries, jabbing a finger out the window.

“I see them,” Atem assures him, laughing a little.

“You didn’t call them out, though.”

“Should I have?”

Everyone—even Honda, driving—gasps in sincere disbelief. Atem shrinks against the door in surprise.

“You have to call out the cows,” Yugi informs him.

“And horses!” Jou adds. Everyone nods like this should be obvious.

Atem is still lost. “Why?”

“So everyone else can see them,” Yugi says.

“You _have_ to say hi to the cows,” Anzu reiterates.

Atem knows better than to argue. “Okay. I’ll let you all know next time.”

There aren’t any cows to call out for the next few miles, and conversation returns to normal. Atem joins in on a debate about deck composition, momentarily forgetting about his obligation to call attention to any cattle.

It’s not until a full fifteen minutes later that he sees another herd, and obediently says, “Cows.”

Once again, all conversations halts as everyone calls their own greetings to the livestock. Atem can’t help but laugh at their enthusiasm—he never knew his friends got this excited about _cows_. At the same time, it holds the comfort of home, a similar kind of ritual to the ones they had so long ago. Not exactly the same, but… familiar enough.

When the herd is out of sight, Atem offers to teach them all how to thank Hathor in Egyptian. It takes a few tries, but at the next round of cattle, the whole van praises The Lady of Sycamore as loud as if they’d known the prayer their whole lives. Atem laughs again, this time at all the words they pronounce wrong, but he’s sure the gods have heard their praise as clear as day.

When cows stop appearing, and they get tired of looking, conversation devolves into sillier things. Singing along poorly to whatever Jou decides to subject them to, round after round of Twenty Questions, finding endless ways to complicate Rock-Paper-Scissors—they do anything to keep themselves occupied. 

This includes stopping for a late lunch halfway through the journey, as Yugi and Atem realize that waking up late means they haven’t eaten all day. Honda parks at a fast food restaurant, and everyone gets out to stretch their legs and fill up for the next two and half hours on the road. Eating inside tacks on extra time, and every minute the clock ticks ahead has Atem worried.

“When does the tournament start?” he asks, aimed at no one in particular. “We won’t miss anything important if we’re a little late, will we?”

“They announce the brackets tonight,” Jou answers, and Yugi nods with a mouthful of burger. “Only a couple duels are happening after that—the main event is all day tomorrow.”

Atem furrows his brows. “What if they announce either of you for tonight? Won’t showing up late get you disqualified?”

Yugi swallows and smiles reassuringly. “It’ll be fine, Other Me. We’re not going to miss the tournament.”

Everyone nods or otherwise offers encouragement, and Atem drops the issue. It’s not like they’ll be staying too much longer, if the empty trays and used napkins scattering the table say anything. It’s unlikely that they’ll be more than a few minutes late, if they are late at all. But something about the casual, vague dismissal rubs him the wrong way, and Atem can’t shake the feeling that everyone knows something he doesn’t, again. That he’s missing some vital piece of information. Again.

He can’t figure it out, though. And decides it probably isn’t as important as trying to stop Jou from shoving fries up his nose on a dare.

As predicted, they’re back on the road soon enough. The van is quieter, now that everyone has a full belly, and conversation is less boisterous. Letting his meal settle, Atem finds the accidental late-night deck building session catching up with him. His eyes grow heavy the longer he recalls just how little sleep he got the previous night. It’s hard to sit upright.

“Partner,” he mumbles, nudging Yugi with an elbow.

“What is it?” Yugi asks, looking up from one of Anzu’s brochures.

“Wake me up when we get to Ōmachi.”

“Sure thing.”

Satisfied, Atem huddles up against the window and closes his eyes. The smooth rumble of the wheels and the engine and the murmur of conversation lulls him to sleep in seconds.

Someone shakes him awake.

“Hey, Other Me." Oh, it's Yugi. "We’re here.”

Atem uncurls from the hunched position he's fallen into. His neck hurts. His back does, too. This nap is turning out to have been a pretty bad idea. He scrunches his nose and opens his eyes...

And still can't see.

He blinks a few times. His eyelids push against a thick piece of fabric tied tightly around his head and blocking his vision. He automatically reaches up to take it off.

"What—?" he begins to ask.

Yugi steals his hands and readjusts the blindfold. "Nope, you're keeping that on."

"Why?"

"You'll see."

"Hey, Yug'!" calls Jou, distantly. "Is he up yet?"

Instead of answering, Yugi drags Atem forward across the seats. “Come on, everyone’s waiting for you.”

“ _Why_?” Atem asks again, confusing fighting off the last remains of his nap. “What’s going on?”

“You’ll see!”

Though Atem’s mind is awake, his body decidedly isn’t. He stumbles around on uncertain legs when Yugi pulls him out of the van and onto the… ground? It’s hard to tell what he’s standing on without the ability to see it, but it crunches under his shoes. It’s not pavement, he can tell that right away.

“Alright!” Honda cheers, and the van door _slams_ shut. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

“What _show_?” Atem presses. “What’s going on?”

“You’ll _see_ ,” Yugi promises again, dragging him ahead a few steps.

“No, I won’t, actually.”

“You can take the blindfold off when we get there.”

“Get _where_?”

Otogi’s voice cuts through the conversation. “Who has the map?”

 _Map?_ Aren’t they supposed to be going to the tournament?

“Got it right here,” Jou proclaims. Atem hears the shuffle of a wide piece of paper. “It’s a little hard to read, but—”

“You’re holding it _upside down_ , doofus.” The map shuffles again.

“I still can’t read it.”

“Gimme that.” There’s a frantic rustling, and unintelligible bickering. 

“Oh, please—you’re _both_ wrong,” Anzu declares. The map shuffles one last time. Both Jou and Otogi are silent for a moment, before murmuring a soft _Oh_.

“One last check from the pack mule,” Honda says, voice accompanied by approaching footsteps. “Does everybody have everything?”

All around, the group bustles and mutters to themselves, presumably checking _something_. Atem has no idea what it could possibly be. 

“Anzu?” Yugi calls. “Can you come here?”

“Sure.” She’s at their side in an instant. “What’s up?”

“Can you hold him, please? I have to check… something.”

“Go ahead.”

Yugi leaves, replaced with Anzu. She grips his hands, dedicated to her task. And to keep him from taking off the blindfold, most likely. 

“Can _you_ tell me what’s going on?” he asks her.

“Sorry,” she says, though she doesn’t sound sorry. “It’s a secret.”

Atem would have rolled his eyes if anyone could see it. He assesses his surroundings as best he can.

The ground is uneven, and in the few steps he’s taken, he felt his shoes kick something into the air—dirt, most likely. Speaking of the air, it’s cooler out, a far cry from the blazing summer sun they left behind that afternoon. Distantly, he hears the chirp of insects and the rustling of leaves. They must be out in nature, and it must be night. But _why_? How long was he asleep? Shouldn’t the tournament be starting any minute?

“What about the tournament?” Atem asks.

“Don’t worry about it,” Anzu replies. “We haven’t missed a thing.”

He frowns behind the blindfold. There’s no way they’re _heading_ there. They wouldn’t be using a map, and they wouldn’t be out in the middle of… wherever they are. A park? 

A shot way away, he hears Ryou. “It’s alright, Honda, I can carry it.”

“Are you sure? It looks super heavy.”

“I’ve carried it longer than we’ll be walking. Plus, I don’t want it banging up against everything else you have with you.”

“Well, don’t fall.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Atem’s frown deepens. Walking? _Carrying_?

“I’m back!” Yugi says, appearing once more. 

“Got everything?” Anzu asks.

“Yep, it’s all set.”

Atem wants to ask about it—something, _anything_ —but Honda calls out, “Let’s move everybody!”

Anzu lets go of one of his hands, Yugi takes the other, and then Atem is being dragged along, into the-gods-know-where, with his friends ahead of him. They talk and laugh amongst themselves, crunching what sounds like leaves and sticks under their shoes. 

His guess that they must be in some kind of park only solidifies as the journey continues. His shoes kick aside a few rocks and pebbles. Yugi and Anzu warn him and each other of uneven ground or odd-shaped roots. The air smells of earth and plants, a welcome change from the city air of Domino. As nice as it is, it doesn’t answer the question of why they’re here _or_ where they’re going. Atem knows he won’t get those answers—not directly, in any case. But that doesn’t mean he can’t try to piece it together himself.

“Can I at least know where we are?” he asks.

“Uh…” Even with the blindfold, he can practically see Yugi’s sideways look to Anzu. The motion of her shrug carries through the hand she’s holding. 

“Hey, everyone,” Yugi calls ahead of them. “Can we say where we are?”

“I don’t see why not,” Ryou says, not too far away on the left. 

“Chūbu-Sangaku National Park!” Honda calls back, definitely the farthest from them.

They _are_ in a park, though of a bigger kind. With that information, Atem knows this can’t be a short detour. _This_ has to be the thing they were all so excited about, leading up to the trip. They’re here _instead_ of the tournament, on purpose.

And they didn’t say a word to him— _still_ aren’t saying a word to him. _Why?_

Atem lurches as his two guides suddenly halt. The ground is distinctly slanted, a slope heading down from whence they came. Ahead of them, he hears the voices of his friends grunting and complaining, and Honda encouraging them. They _all_ sound farther away now. Not just farther away, but _above_ him.

“How are we going to do this?” Anzu mutters.

“I don’t know,” Yugi admits. “I didn’t think about stuff like this.”

“What?” Atem asks. “What is it?”

“Nothing. It’s… not _that_ tall.”

“Tall?”

Anzu shifts her weight. “I think it’ll be fine. It’s a short climb.”

“ _Climb_?”

Yugi squeezes his hand. “It’ll be fine. You go ahead, Anzu, I’ll stay down here.”

“Alright,” she says, hesitant. “If you’re sure.”

One of Atem’s hands comes free as Anzu steps away. Immediately, he reaches for the blindfold, but Yugi is faster.

“ _No_ peeking,” he orders. “You’ll ruin the surprise for yourself.”

“I’m okay with that,” Atem replies, “if it means I don’t have to climb something without being able to see it.”

“You’ll be fine. Everyone can pull you up when you get high enough.” 

He takes a few more steps, and Atem has no choice but to follow. Yugi sets Atem’s hands firmly against a solid stone wall. Dirt and dust and sharp rocks press into his palms. Yugi slips behind him, and pats his shoulders reassuringly.

“And I’ll be right behind you,” he says, “in case you fall.” 

Atem swallows, frozen to the spot. Whatever the surprise is, surely it’s not worth _this_ , right?

“You can do it, man!” Jou cries from above. Clapping and cheering from the rest of the group accompany him.

“I’m not even a very good climber,” Ryou says, “and I did it wearing a giant bag the whole time.”

“We saved the _world_ together,” Honda reminds him, as if he needs reminding.

“Like, four times,” Otogi adds.

“We’ll be right here waiting for you!” Anzu promises.

Atem’s nerves have not in the slightest way subsided, but his chest feels a bit lighter. His friends won’t let him hurt himself. Yugi wouldn’t encourage him to do this if he thought it too risky. He’ll be fine. He gropes blindly at the wall for a good handhold, and pulls up.

“I can give you a boost,” Yugi offers.

“No, it’s alright,” Atem says, stretching up with his other hand. 

Already, he has to stand on his toes to reach the next decent hold. When he pulls himself up, his feet are off the ground. He sucks in an anxious breath and scrabbles against the wall for a place to put them. The idea of climbing blindfolded is becoming less and less appealing. 

Yugi applauds. “That’s it, Other Me!” 

“I hate this,” Atem mutters, mostly to himself. When his feet have a place to rest, he reaches for another handhold. 

“I can still boost you up, if you want.”

“ _No_. No, I can… do it myself.” And the idea of being shoved up a wall with no way to see what’s ahead of him isn’t the most appealing idea, either.

The climb is a slow and laborious process. Without the ability to see anything ahead of him, Atem drags his hand across the wall to make sure he doesn't miss a handhold. He has no idea how high off the ground he is. In theory, it should make him feel better. In practice, he feels _worse_. Especially in the few seconds after the push when his foot has nowhere to rest, dangling against the wall with no perspective. 

“I hate this,” he repeats, louder, and only partly kidding.

“You’re doing a great job,” Anzu tells him. She sounds a lot closer than before. 

“How much farther?”

“We can almost reach you,” Honda says. There’s a lot of shuffling. “One more, you got this.”

Atem presses his forehead against the wall and takes a breath. One more. He can do one more. In an effort to speed things along, he pushes up before finding a handhold. 

Bad idea.

Blind, he can’t see if there’s a handhold above him. He scrabbles for one, and finds nothing. He’s balancing with one leg, his second hand is slipping—

Two strong hands seize his flailing arm and haul him up with little to no effort. “There we _go_ ,” Honda grunts.

Atem grabs onto Honda with his other hand, relieved. The edge of the cliff or hill or _whatever_ he’s been made to climb digs into his abdomen soon enough, and he _shoves_ himself over it onto blessedly flat ground. He rolls onto his back, chest heaving. Congratulations from all his friends go around, but he barely hears them. 

“Are you okay?” Yugi calls up from below. 

“I’m fine,” he calls back down, and gives a thumbs-up over the side. If anyone notices his shaking hands, they don’t mention it.

It’s Yugi’s turn to climb the wall next—while they’re waiting, they make Atem sit on his hands so he can’t take the blindfold off. It’s not long before Yugi rejoins them and they’re walking through the park again.

Wherever they’re going, and the surprise that they all hint at, must be important. No matter how Atem tries, all six of his friends are singularly dedicated to making sure he doesn’t take off his blindfold before the proper time. Every time his hand—in the short moments he has one free—wanders so much as _near_ his face, his guides snatch it back for themselves. Not even saying he has an itch there convinces them to let go. And they’re right not to, because it’s a lie, but it’s quite frustrating.

Atem very quickly gives up on trying to see before they let him, allowing himself to be dragged along the path to their destination. He has no idea how long they’ve been walking, but after a particularly long stint uphill, the soles of his feet ache. If he knew they’d be having a trek through the wilderness, he would have brought more appropriate shoes.

“How much farther?” he asks. 

“We’re almost there,” Anzu says. “We just did the hardest part.”

“It’s so much _uphill_ ,” Yugi complains.

“What did you expect? We _are_ on a mountain.”

Intrigued, Atem tucks that piece of information away in his mind, alongside the other few scraps he’s been able to pick up here and there. It certainly explains the rock wall.

“I know,” Yugi continues, with a sigh. “I don’t know why I thought this would be easy.”

“Try doing it blindfolded,” Atem says. 

“We’ve been leading you the _whole_ time.”

“Have you ever climbed a wall blindfolded, Partner?”

“Okay, so we’ve been leading you _almost_ the whole time.”

“For the record, I am never doing that again.”

Anzu squeezes his hand. “Don’t worry, it’s practically a straight shot from here.”

“Practically?”

“It’s not a perfect straight line, because it’s a _mountain_ , but there shouldn’t be any more super rough patches, or rock walls, or—” 

History repeats itself as Yugi and Anzu screech to a halt. Atem stumbles back a bit, so he won’t run into them.

“Or that,” Anzu finishes.

“Uh,” Yugi starts. “We can’t…Can we?”

“Nope. Not at all.”

“What?” Atem asks. “What is it?” _Please don’t be another wall_.

They ignore him. Anzu shouts, “Honda! We need some help back here!”

“One second!” he shouts back. Very, very distantly, Atem hears a few thuds, and an order for Jou to take over as “pack mule.”

“What is it?” he repeats. 

“An obstacle,” Anzu says simply.

“We can’t guide you over it,” Yugi adds.

“Am I going to have to climb it again?”

“Nope. We’re going to get Honda to help you.”

That doesn’t sound so bad. “Help me how?”

They don’t get a chance to answer that question. A loud _thud_ strikes the ground ahead of them, and it turns out to be Honda.

“Reporting for duty,” he says. “Let’s do this.”

Anzu and Yugi step away without another word. Honda claps Atem on the shoulders. 

“Okay,” he says. “Are you ready?”

Atem has no idea what to be ready for. “Ready? Ready for wha— _ahhh!_ ”

In one swift motion, Honda hoists Atem into the air and throws him around his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. Before Atem can properly get his bearings—or stop flailing around—they’re on the move, Honda striding forward as if his passenger weighs nothing at all. Behind them, Yugi and Anzu fail at stifling their laughter.

“Is this _really_ necessary?” Atem demands, nearly shouting in terrified offense.

“Sure is,” Honda answers brightly, and his steps become more and more labored. “Unless you’d rather find a way over this thing yourself.”

“There must be _some_ other option before this.”

“Nothing we can do about it now. Hang on!”

Honda stops striding and starts climbing. Though it’s hard to judge his distance from _anywhere_ , Atem can feel them getting higher off the ground and onto a very different surface. He contracts his limbs and hooks onto Honda like a nervous cat—which he may as well be. He squeezes his eyes shut out of habit. The world is exactly as dark as it was before he closed them, and it does little to help his nerves.

They reach the peak of the obstacle, Honda able to sit down properly at the top of it. He pats Atem’s leg.

“Time to go over the other side,” he says.

“Good,” Atem breathes. “I can’t wait to be done with this.”

“Oh, okay, I’ll take the quick way down then.”

“What does that mean? What quick way? _Honda_ —”

Honda pushes off with his legs and says, _“Whee!_ ” as they slide down the side of the obstacle. Atem hooks in again and asks very sternly for a _warning_ next time!

They land with a hard _thud_ onto the ground, Atem jostling around as Honda breaks his fall with a crouch. He hops to his feet again and turns back around from whence they came.

“We’re over!” he calls. “No trouble at all.”

“I would _heartily_ debate that,” Atem counters. 

“Come on, you’re fine.” Honda turns ahead and continues with his long strides. “You have to admit it was a little fun.”

“Yes, yes, spectacular. Can I come down now?”

“You could _._ ” He makes no move to put Atem down. “But I have to get back to Jou before he keels over, and we have to get _you_ up this mountain.”

Atem has a bad feeling about this. “What are you suggesting?”

“The quick way.”

“ _What_ quick way?”

“I’m glad you asked!”

Without any further explanation, Honda breaks into a run.

Any protests Atem has are drowned out as soon as he can say them, lost in the wind as Honda races up the mountain. He can tell who they’re passing on the way by the startled bursts of laughter that fade into the distance. Atem might have found this whole scenario embarrassing if he could think about anything other than hanging on for his dear second life.

When at last Honda screeches to a halt—next to Jou, by the sound of that cackling—Atem’s first words are, “ _Down_. Put me down.”

Honda shifts his shoulders to one side to slide him off, but pauses as rapid footsteps approach.

“Wait!” Otogi pants. “Wait, hold on, don’t put him down yet.”

“Yes, put me down!”

“That’s _perfect_ ,” Honda says, and readjusts Atem on his shoulders.

Stuck up there, Atem does his best to fold his arms. “Can I at least be aware of the situation this time?”

“Smile!” Otogi says.

Before he can protest, there’s a sharp click and a flash of light bursts against Atem’s blindfold. A mechanical whirring and another click soon follow. He has enough of Yugi’s memories to know exactly what that means. 

“You brought a camera?” he asks, resigned to his eternal embarrassment.

“I am _so_ glad I remembered this thing,” Otogi says, confirming his suspicions. “Look, everybody come here.”

Honda steps to the side and leans over, bringing Atem with him. Seconds later, he throws his head back and laughs, and Jou quickly follows. Otogi runs off to show the stragglers left in their dust, while the rest of them agree to wait. Not that Atem has much of a choice.

“Can I come down _now_?” he demands, though has devised a plan of getting _himself_ down if asking nicely continues to be ineffective. It involves a lot of thrashing about.

“Coming down,” Honda promises. “To the ground you go.”

Finishing what he started, Honda tilts sideways until Atem can scramble off his shoulders of his own volition. He stumbles around with his arms outstretched to regain his sightless balance. 

“Careful now,” Ryou says, suddenly behind him. He helps Atem steady himself.

“Thank you,” he says.

“No trouble. Are you okay? You, uh…” The edge of a laugh creeps into his voice. “You were looking a bit agitated back there, when Honda ran past.”

Atem resists the urge to grumble indignantly. “I’m alright.”

“ _See_?” Honda cuts in. “You’re totally fine.”

“Was there _truly_ no other option?”

“Sure there was, but you’re small. It was the easiest choice.”

“I’m _not_ small.”

“Yes, you are."

"Hate to break it you, man," Jou says, pausing to grunt and drop something heavy on the ground. "You're a shrimp."

Atem plants his hands on his hips and corrects, "To _you_. People didn't get much taller than this back in Egypt."

“Really?”

“Really! I was a perfectly average height back then. _I’m_ not short, you’re all excessive.” He flips his hands dismissively in what he assumes their direction is. Ryou turns him a bit to the left. He does it again, and repeats, “ _Excessive_.”

Soon enough, Otogi returns with Yugi and Anzu. After confirming that Honda _really did_ sprint all the way up here with Atem thrown over his shoulders and that he _really did_ look that ridiculous, they all have another good laugh at his expense before carrying on. 

Yugi and Anzu on each hand again, Atem silently groans at himself for not having the wherewithal to remove the blindfold while they were waiting. He _has_ been rather distracted on this trip, and he suspects that’s the point. They won’t answer any direct questions, they give no hints, and leave no opportunities for him to discover for himself what they’re all up to. He has very few options but to play along and wait to see whatever they’re so determined to keep secret from him. There is _one_ he clings to heartily, however.

Retribution.

“Are we there yet?” Atem asks, for the dozenth time.

A bored chorus of, “No.” answers him from all directions. 

“How about now?”

“No.”

“Alright. How about _now_?”

“No.”

He pauses to feel the annoyed tension in the air. “Are we there _now_?”

“ _No_!”

“Okay! Okay.”

Twenty seconds pass in silence. Atem inhales with purpose and _everyone_ groans. 

“Are we there yet?” he preens.

The promise of the usual answer rises like high tide, but Jou interrupts it before it starts. “Wait, wait! We _are_ here. This is the spot.”

Everyone stops. The shift in the mood is palpable. Irritation forgotten, they stand in stock silence. 

“Right?” Jou confirms. The map crinkles in the breeze. “Anzu?”

“Let me see,” she says, and steps away to double-check for him.

Atem doesn’t bother reaching up with his newly freed hand. Yugi doesn’t grab it. 

They wait in pensive silence until Anzu’s voice floats back to them, “This is the place.”

An unspoken order is given, and everyone gets to work. Or Atem assumes that’s what they’re doing. Yugi moves him off to the side, out of the way, and he waits and listens. He hears bags opening, metal bumping against metal, the soft _whoof_ of a blanket being thrown out, shoes stomping in the grass. They hardly speak through it all.

Atem keeps his hands at his sides, not quite sure what to do with himself. This close to the reveal, ruining it by taking the blindfold off would be useless—and in very poor taste. He decides to wait. To trust his friends to tell him what to do. They led him here, after all. Up a mountain, in the dark, over walls, and through trees.

But the question remains: what _are_ they all doing here?

It goes unanswered for a good few minutes, as his friends set the scene to their satisfaction. The end comes when someone claps their hands, several others declare their parts, “done,” and a few shaky exhales—nervous or excited, Atem can’t be sure—reach his ears.

“Okay,” Yugi says. “That leaves one last thing.”

Atem has the sneaking suspicion that refers to him, and is proved correct when Yugi comes back to drag him forward by the very ends of his fingers. The dirt beneath his feet becomes plush.

“ _Oh_ , well now there’s dirt on it,” Anzu huffs.

“There was always going to be dirt on it,” Jou tells her.

Ryou chimes in, “We can always brush it off, can’t we?” 

“Guys,” Yugi interrupts. 

It’s all he needs to say, and everyone falls reverently silent. Atem couldn’t speak even if he had anything to say. This feels monumental in a way he can’t name, feeding off everyone’s energy and reflecting it without knowing why.

Yugi places him where he deems fit, and releases his hands. “Time to—”

“No, wait,” Otogi interrupts. “That’s not a good spot.”

“What? Why not?”

“There’s too many trees in the way. Here—”

Atem’s is suddenly jerked around to face a completely different direction. 

“You think _that’s_ a good view?” Jou scoffs. “It’s got half the mountain in the way!”

He spins Atem around again and drags him several steps to one side.

“Whoa, whoa!” Ryou gasps. “Too close, I don’t want you to knock it over—”

Honda groans. “Come on, let _me_ do it."

“Uh,” Atem tries to interrupt, but they drag and whirl him around _again_.

An offended gasp. “No, no, you’re messing it all up!” 

“Will you give it a _rest_ , Anzu?” 

They continue dragging Atem this way and that, spinning him around and debating which position has the best view. 

“Guys!” Yugi barges in, whirling him around _yet again_. 

“I’m getting dizzy,” Atem manages.

“ _Here_.” Yugi stands behind him and places him firmly in one spot. “Right here. Everyone?”

Everyone agrees, and Yugi sighs in relief. He tilts Atem’s head back until he’s looking straight up. His fingers pick at the knot of the blindfold.

“I hope you like it,” he says softly, unsure. “We all do.”

The blindfold slides away. Atem blinks up at the sky, eyes re-focusing after so long in the dark and—

Stars.

Hundreds of them. _Thousands_ … 

He gawks to the heavens, a heavy lump growing in his throat as he turns his gaze this way and that and _all he sees are stars_. No city lights, no clouds of smog, nothing but the splatter of that godly brush he remembers from so, _so_ long ago. It’s impossible, it’s _incredible_ , it’s… 

It’s not the same. He finds no familiar constellations among the collection he sees. It’s not the same, but it’s so _achingly_ close that his heart breaks and soars all at once. Bitter grief of a time long gone crashes messily against the relief that finally— _finally_ —something in this strange new existence makes sense. The stars haven’t left him. He isn’t alone. _I still belong here_.

All the tiny white dots blur into a misshapen blob of light and Atem bows his head to swipe at his eyes. 

“Are you okay?” Yugi asks, laced with concern.

Atem looks at him—at _all_ of them—and makes sure he smiles through his tears, makes sure they see the _joy_ behind his wet cheeks. “Yes,” he says, thick with emotion. “I’m happy.”

Anzu gasps and points back up at the sky. “Look!”

Everyone turns their heads skyward again, and Atem would have laughed if his head wasn’t swimming. Because now it all makes sense.

Tsuchinshan 1 is a tiny dot among tiny dots, the long streak of its white tail the only thing that separates it from the mass of stars in the night sky. It crawls across the heavens with the leisurely pace of the infinite, unconcerned with their observations.

It’s the Saturday of the comet. They brought him here for _this_.

“Come on, everyone,” Ryou urges. He’s sitting down on the blanket under their feet, in front of a large white telescope, cylindrical bag empty at his side. He waves them all over. “Come get a look before it’s gone.”

The group peels off, one by one, eagerly making a line at the telescope. Atem doesn’t move.

“What about the tournament?” he asks Yugi.

Yugi rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. “Jou and I pulled some strings with the administrators. King of Games and everything.”

Jou throws a friendly arm around Atem’s shoulders. “We made sure we wouldn’t be dueling until tomorrow.”

Atem shakes his head, the reality of it hitting him all at once. “You all… _planned_ this?”

“My aunt and uncle used to take me to this park all the time,” Anzu pipes up. “That’s how I knew the spot.”

“It was easy enough to get the van off my dad,” Honda says.

Ryou presents his telescope with both arms. “I’ve been wanting to break this out for ages.”

“And to make memories—” Otogi waves around a polaroid camera, “—there’s no one better.”

Atem stands in slack-jawed awe at all of them. At all his friends, coming together just to make him happy. Keeping it a surprise, because they knew that he would have refused if they told him beforehand. And it could have gone wrong—they had no idea if seeing all this would make him feel better or worse, but they took the chance to show him how much they care. They risked that for _him_ —to give him something he thought he’d lost forever.

“And,” Yugi adds, disappearing momentarily to scrounge for something on the far side of the blanket, “we also chipped in to get you this.”

A rectangular object sits in his hands. Atem takes it as it’s handed to him—a book. He flips it over to read the front and nearly breaks down all over again.

“You mentioned you couldn’t read the sky anymore,” Yugi says, when he doesn’t speak. “We were thinking this might help.”

 _The Ultimate Guide to Modern Constellations_ isn’t a title that needs much explaining, which is just as well, because Atem can’t read it anymore. The tears threatening to spill finally do, sliding down his cheeks and splattering onto the cover of the book. They reflect the stars in the sky until they become constellations in their own right.

Atem doesn’t know how it happens, but suddenly there are a dozen arms embracing him, from the top of his head to the ends of his legs. He sobs and laughs and lets them, hugging the book to his chest as tight as he possibly can, because he doesn’t have enough arms of his own to hug them all back. 

When his tears finally dry, they all unanimously agree that Atem should be the first one with a turn on the telescope. He takes it gratefully, tracking Tsuchinshan 1 across the sky, and only has to pull away to wipe his eyes twice. After he’s done, they show him the picture Otogi snapped of his journey up the mountain. It's absolutely ridiculous. He laughs at himself along with everybody else. 

Atem spends most of the night with _The Ultimate Guide to Modern Constellations_ open in his lap, pointing out the patterns and charting their positions in the provided starmap. He can’t read them to tell the time just yet, but it’s a start. It’s a welcome old face in this new familiar.

As Tsuchinshan 1 crosses the sky and fades from view, Atem decides that if the gods _did_ send it as an omen, it's not a warning. It's a blessing. A sign that reads, _Welcome home_.

And he truly has never felt more at home under this new sky.

**Author's Note:**

> please make sure your ancient egyptian pharaoh has enough enrichment in his enclosure


End file.
